Dazzle The Complete Unabridged Trilogy (100 page)

'You heard?'

Tamara nodded. 'Louie just got through telling me.' She
paused and smiled sweetly. 'So that's why you want me on
your show. As an Oscar nominee.'

'Well, yes,' Marilee admitted. 'But more correctly, that's
why O.T. wants you to do it. It's a great way to publicize the
picture. Now . . .'She consulted her notes, poised her poison
pencil and looked Tamara squarely in the eye.
'Fire and Blood
'
is your first Technicolour movie. What did you think about
seeing yourself in colour for the very first time?'

The questions continued to come: 'I know your husband
directs all your films, but if he wasn't around, who would be
your choice of director?' . . . 'You always dress in white or pale colours. Tell me, is it your own style or did the studio
decide it for you?' 'Which did you prefer to kiss, Clark
Gable or Errol Flynn?' . . . 'Do you really think Roosevelt is
doing a good job in running this country?'

Tamara listened and thought quickly and replied as honestly
as the questions allowed. They ranged from films to politics,
an area O.T. had had her suitably tutored in from time to time
so she could give concise middle-of-the-road views that would offend the least number of her fans. The barrage of questions
was unrelenting, and when Esperanza came unhurriedly
toward them in that flatfooted way of hers, Tamara actually
welcomed the interruption.

Esperanza's face was as impassive as always. 'There a
policeman here to see you, señora.'

'A
policeman!'
Tamara whipped off her sunglasses and
frowned up at her. 'Did he say what he wants?'

'No, señora.' Esperanza shrugged. 'He no tell me.'

'I'd better see to this right away,' Tamara told Marilee.
'I'm sorry. Today it seems like we're doomed to be constantly
interrupted. I'll be right back.'

Marilee nodded and watched Tamara hurrying off. She was
about to sit back, when her reporter's instinct made her get
up and follow at a discreet distance.

Tamara found one of L.A.'s uniformed finest waiting just
inside the sliding terrace doors, blue cap in hand. 'You wished
to see me?' she asked.

'Yes, ma'am. I'm Officer West of the LAPD. Are you the
owner of a white Packard Convertible?'

It was then that her heart began to beat like a sledgehammer on an anvil, but she forced herself to remain calm. 'No
...
I
mean, yes. I
...
I suppose so. You see, my husband just
bought me one earlier today, and I didn't want it. He's gone
to return it.'

His face still looked straight at her, but his eyes shifted to the side, as though he was afraid to meet her gaze head-on.
'I'm afraid there's been an accident.'

She clutched his arm. 'No! It can't be!'

'I'm sorry, ma'am. According to eyewitness reports, there
was the sound of a blowout just before a curve, and then
the driver apparently lost control. The car overshot the road
and . . . plunged down into the canyon.'

'He's dead!' she screamed, her eyes widening in horror.
'Oh, my God, he's dead!' She clapped her hands over her ears
and started to scream.

And then the world seemed to screech and roar and tilt,
whirling out of control and blasting her straight off the universe. Her eyes rolled and fluttered, and then her body went
limp. Even before Officer West caught her and lowered her gently to the floor, Marilee Rice was dashing to her car. She
knew a scoop when she heard one.

Chapter 19

Louis' funeral was lavish. O.T. had put his chauffeured limou
sine at Tamara's disposal and rode to the synagogue with her
and Inge. Once there they were treated to a shock. Morbid curiosity seekers lined both sides of the street behind hastily
erected police barricades; the press and hundreds of fans had turned out to catch a glimpse of the Hollywood notables come to pay their last respects. There was a carnival atmosphere in the air. An ice-cream vendor was doing a brisk business, and hand-held placards bobbed obscenely up and down, reading
we love you
,
tamara
or
we weep with you
, and one young man
was frantically waving one which read
how about me?
The
moment Tamara was helped out of the car, a single whisper
flashed from person to person: 'Tamara.' Shutters started
clicking and newsreel cameras rolled. And then the chant
began: 'Ta-ma-RA. Ta-ma-RA.'

Reporters started shouting questions, and the crowd thrust the barricades aside, surging forward despite the phalanx of
policemen trying to hold them back. One crazed woman man
aged to reach Tamara on the synagogue steps, waving an auto
graph book in front of her veiled face. While a policeman
dragged the woman away, O.T. and Inge quickly hustled
Tamara inside.

The synagogue was filled to overflowing. The film colony
was a tight-knit community, and Louis had known almost
everyone in it. Many of his friends and acquaintances, from
studio heads on down to the grips, had shown up to pay their
last respects. The floral tributes were mountainous, the service
mercifully short, the eulogy, delivered by O.T., warm and inspiring. The casket was closed, so Tamara could take no
comfort from seeing her loved one in peaceful, if cosmetic,
repose, could kiss no chill lips good-bye before sending him
on his final journey. There was nothing she could draw com
fort from, not even the hope that death had been instantaneous. Louis had, in all likelihood, been aware of the car's
plunge for several horrible seconds before it crashed into the canyon bed. She could only pray that death had then been
immediate. The alternative was too gruesome to imagine.
Louis had been pinned behind the steering wheel of the Pack
ard and burned beyond recognition when the gas tank
exploded.

Afterward, Tamara didn't know how she had managed to
get through the ordeal, the single worst thing that had ever
happened to her. Blessedly, most of it was a blur—she was
still in a state of numb shock. Everyone remarked upon how
dignified she was, how she kept herself in rigid control. In
truth, she was closer to catatonia than life, and she simply let Inge lead her around like a zombie. All she had to do, really,
was put one foot,in front of the other. That was the only effort
required of her.

It was at the cemetery plot, a stone's throw from Valentino's
crypt, that the other nightmare occurred. As Louis' coffin was
about to be lowered into the ground, Zelda Ziolko let out a
shriek and rushed forward, flinging herself across it. 'Louieee,'
she sobbed, beating her fists on her son's coffin.'Louieeee . . .
don't you leave me here, Louieeee . . .'

Friends of Zelda's who had accompanied her tried to pry
her loose and managed to pull her back. It was then that Zelda
pointed an accusing finger at Tamara. 'You, you no-good bitch!' Zelda shrieked crazily. 'YOU killed him! You killed
my
bubbale!
I curse you, you bitch! May you never rest in
peace!'

Inge swiftly placed herself between Zelda and Tamara, and
then Zelda's friends pulled the hysterical woman back and
hustled her off to a waiting limousine, her wails and accu
sations rupturing the otherwise dignified silence of the cere
mony.

'Come, we must go,' Inge said finally in a trembling voice
that made it evident just how grief-stricken she was. She ges
tured at two workmen standing at a discreet distance, leaning on their shovels and smoking. 'The gravediggers are waiting.'
Tears rolled down from her cornflower-blue eyes as she took
Tamara's arm shakily and tried to steer her away. 'It is all over
now.'

Tamara trembled slightly, her veil swaying in front of her
face. 'No, it's not over,' she whispered in a thin, reedy voice.
'Death is with you always. A part of me has died along with
Louie.'

When they arrived back at Tamahawk, they discovered that
there would be no peace there either. Two men were waiting
for Tamara in the living room. They rose to their feet as one
the moment she entered.

'Mrs. Ziolko?' the taller of the two said, stepping forward.

She lifted her veil slowly and frowned blankly at him, her puffy red eyes confused. 'Who are you?' she asked in a shrill
voice. 'Who let you in? Get out this instant before I call the
police!'

The man was undeterred. 'I am David Fleischer and this is my associate Alan Salzberg,' he said. 'We are with the firm of
Kasindorf, Steinberg, Rinaldi, and Fleischer, attorneys for
Mrs. Zelda Ziolko.'

'What does she have to do with you trespassing in my
house?'

Fleischer held up a sheaf of folded documents. 'We're sorry,
Mrs. Ziolko, but we must ask you to vacate this house at once.'

'What!' Tamara started to rush forward, and almost leapt
at him, but Inge clung to her arm and held her back.

'According to a prenuptial agreement we prepared and you
signed, you have voluntarily forfeited all claims to the estate
of Louis Ziolko.'

'Get out!' she whispered. 'This is my house. I've been pay
ing the mortage on it! Get out! Get out!
Get out!'

'According to the deed, both the house and the property
are in Mr. Ziolko's name.' He stepped forward and thrust the papers at her. She refused to hold them, and let them drop to the floor. 'Pending a full investigation, we must insist that you
do not remove anything except your personal clothes.'

Tamara squirmed out of Inge's grip and raised her taloned
hands threateningly. 'Get out of my house!' she screamed,
rushing at the lawyer. 'Out!
Out!'